


Wish I Had More Smokes

by enemytosleep



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Fellatio, M/M, Oral Sex, Straight Guy Scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-06
Updated: 2009-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemytosleep/pseuds/enemytosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye would kill them. The Colonel might, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish I Had More Smokes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://fma-ihop.livejournal.com/profile)[**fma_ihop**](http://fma-ihop.livejournal.com/) anonymous kink meme (outing myself here of course) with the prompt: _Havoc has an oral fixation and some of his fellow soldiers take advantage. Ed, Roy, Fuery, whoever you so desire. Bukkake earns you bonus points._

The truck jostled its cargo as it drove over a particularly mean bump, forcing Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc to take hold of the truck's edge. He was not alone in his plight, having Breda, Falman, and Fuery tucked away in the cargo bed along with him. It was a military issue vehicle that they were using to move from Eastern to Central Headquarters, its flat bed covered in green canvas that was stretched over curved metal rods. It reminded him of a covered horse wagon, except it traveled faster and therefor, to his chagrin, provided a more jarring ride.

He sat back on his heels, one hand still gripping the lip of the truck bed. They had been driving all morning, and his ass was sore from sitting on the hard floor. He really wished they could stop somewhere to take a break and see some sunlight. Being holed up with all of these boxes and his comrades was becoming old. A few hours into the drive he had started to wish he had a nice rack like Hawkeye, since that seemed to be the reason she got to drive and not himself. Damn Mustang and his preferential treatment.

He wasn't normally this jaded, but in the rush of packing he had somehow misplaced his extra cigarettes. He had finished off the pack in his pocket not soon after their departure, and the Colonel had refused to let them stop for more. Havoc had soon become restless, his anxiety getting the better of him. One only needed to look at his nails as proof, as he had been chewing them off with an almost vicious zeal.

Addictions aside, the whole situation really did suck. He had been getting really used to being back in the East, so close to home. Things were familiar there, and he had been close enough to go visit his family when he was off-duty. Worse than losing that was of course having to say goodbye to Anna. He had enough issues in keeping a girlfriend that he really had no need for more. Having to let her go for the cause, while important, really hurt.

He couldn't smoke, couldn't complain about it -he'd tried that for a while, eventually earning himself the silent treatment - and, as they rode over some divot in the road, he couldn't even get comfortable. God-damnit, when would they arrive in Central? He was going to lose his mind on this trip.

"Fuck!" he growled, punching the truck wall with surprising force.

"You all right there, buddy?" Breda questioned.

"I'm fine." He wasn't really, but as there was nothing they could do to fix the situation, there was no need to bitch about it. He really needed a cigarette, badly.

"You don't look so good. You sure you're all right?"

He wasn't all right, wasn't it fucking obvious? There was no need to focus on it, since they had so much further to go before they arrived. He'd be fine once they arrived in Central. He just had to make sure he didn't go crazy in the meantime.

"You know why I'm all on edge like this. I just need to make it to Central, and then I'll be good." He looked up at his fellow soldier, and took note of his knowing smirk. That always meant he was thinking something that Havoc didn't necessarily want to hear. "What are you thinking?" he asked warily. They might as well get whatever idea Breda had out in the open, lest the rust-haired soldier spend the next hour or so teasing him with trying to guess whatever plan he had concocted.

The other soldier stood, stooping slightly beneath the curve of the very roof bars he used to support himself. Smug as ever, he took his time in answering, drawing out whatever sick pleasure he got in being smarter than his sharp-shooting comrade. His cynicism was beginning to surprise himself. Maybe he should try cutting back on the smoking like his mother had said.

"Well, since you ask, I'll tell you. I've done some reading in my spare time on the ways of the mind, nature versus nurture and all of that. Anyway, there is a great deal of study on how our childhoods form our adult personalities."

Havoc quirked an eyebrow, curious to see where his friend was going with all of this.

"So let's take a look at you. You have an obvious oral fixation, which can suggest one of two things: either you were weaned too early or too late. You've become orally dependent, obsessed with satisfying the need for oral stimulation."

"Um, okay?" He wasn't sure how craving a smoke was related to his mother's breast feeding habits, but he was bored and agitated enough to allow the distraction from his situation. "So what does that all mean?"

"Well, it means that your development in your early life has made you this way. Your smoking, your nail biting, your sarcasm...they can all be explained by your nurturing. We could also question your preference for big tits and see if it's not somehow related to your possible deprivation in infancy."

"So I crave cigarettes and big tits because I didn't get enough breast milk as a baby?"

"Possibly. There are a few ways to test the theory."

"You plan on breast feeding a baby and seeing if it turns out like me? I don't see how that's going to work, Breda. How do you know I even have this fixation in the first place? Maybe I just like to smoke."

His companion laughed heartily, inspiring nervous laughter from Kain and a slight smirk from Falman. Havoc hated when he did this. Rather than just come out and explain himself, he let him flounder and show his rural roots. Not everyone read all the same books as Breda had, whether by choice or not. He didn't have to rub it in all the time.

Breda must have seen the resentment Havoc harbored, as he quickly began to explain rather than draw out the teasing. "No, I had something else in mind."

"Like what?"

"Well, you could suck me off for starters."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm not queer like that and you know it!"

"I'm not saying you are! Just hear me out." It was a true test of their bond in arms and in friendship that Havoc didn't knock him out right then and there. "This test would be mutually beneficial. You get to relax, and I get some relief. You weren't the only one leaving a woman behind short notice."

How the hell was sucking off a guy, someone he worked with on a daily basis no doubt, supposed to help him relax? He just needed a god-damned cigarette and he'd be fine. They'd be in Central before the day's end, and then he could forget this whole trip ever happened and move on with his life.

He couldn't keep the cutting edge out of his voice when he replied. "I'm sorry to hear you've left someone back East, but I fail to see how your problem is my problem."

He looked to the others for support, and found none. Fuery furiously attended to some equipment he was repairing, and Falman had brought his newspaper so close to his face that his nose made a small impression that was visible through the layered sheets. Damn them. Screw all of this, he was requesting some leave the moment they got there, and Colonel Mustang had better fucking approve it.

"Don't worry about it. It was just an idea I had."

Maybe he was being too hard on Breda. They were all suffering the same situation, minus the serious craving for a smoke. It wasn't Breda's fault they were stuck here like this, forced to leave familiarity behind whenever the cause needed them to. His own irritability was certainly no one's fault except his own. If he didn't smoke all the damned time maybe he wouldn't be so cranky right now. He should apologize or something.

"Look, I'm sorry, man. I'm not myself right now. I didn't mean what I was saying."

"No worries, guy. It was a bad idea. I shouldn't have asked. My nuts are aching and I was talking out of line."

His nuts were aching? Shit, was that why he was late this morning? He really did leave the breaking up to the last minute.

For a long while after, the roar of the truck engine was all that could be heard as they all remained in uncomfortable silence. The anxiety in the covered bed was nearly palpable, everyone wishing for the trip to be over with as much as the next guy. Havoc's stomach was beginning to slosh and grumble, reminding him that it had been several hours since his last meal and solid ground. He wondered whether it was the Colonel or Hawkeye who refused to stop for lunch, as surely it was past that time by now.

Havoc groaned as he bit too far into his thumbnail, revealing the tender flesh of the nail bed and a fresh flow of blood. He never usually chewed them this badly, which he assumed was due to his lack of cigarettes. He was getting angry with himself, his thoughts constantly coming back to the same thing. He'd never realized how bad his habit how become until today, and he wasn't sure if this revelation was a good thing or a bad thing. As he watched his hand tremble before him, he decided it was a bad thing. He'd rather not have discovered how much he craved that fiery heat in his lungs.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking on the small wound to stop the bleeding. Realizing what he was doing, he began to think about Breda's suggestion and what merit it might have. At this point he was resorting to self-mutilation - on a subconscious level of course - and he could really use some relief from all the tension. He must have lost his mind already if he honestly believed what Breda had said, right? So he could later claim it was the damned trip and the unfortunate circumstances they traveled in. It sounded good to him anyway.

"Hey, Breda. About what you said earlier. Do you really think it would help me relax?"

"Hm?" He was waking up from a nap, still processing Havoc's words as he stretched. Recognition dawned. "Oh! Well, while there were certain selfish intentions regarding the suggested test, there is reason to believe that oral stimulation will help calm you down, if that is indeed your fixation." Breda noted the bleeding thumbnail and added, "I think it's safe to say that it is."

"So how do we do this?"

"What, you mean you've never..."

"Hey, you know what I mean. How do we do this...here, in this truck?"

Havoc wasn't worried about anyone blabbing. Breda would lose just as much face as he would, possibly more so due to the fact that it was his idea. As for Falman and Fuery, they were trying very desperately to ignore this conversation, and would likely file it away in some dark corner of their minds, never to be thought of again. He planned to do the same himself.

"Hell if I know," he answered, laughing. The stout man stood again and carefully staggered his way over to Havoc's side of the truck bed. Standing in front of the still seated blonde, Breda braced himself against the roofing bars with one hand while unfastening his pants with the other.

"God, this is so weird," Jean muttered. He sat up straighter, preparing himself as best he could. He'd never been on this end of the deal before, and never with another guy. Maybe if Mustang knew what was happening, he'd order Hawkeye to stop for smokes, and possibly a brothel. Then again, the Colonel did have his own sense of humor. He would never be so glad to light up again in his life.

"Don't think about what you're sucking. Just concentrate on the need itself."

"And what about you?"

"I'm going to pretend that you're really, Jacqueline."

Great, that made this so much better.

Breathing deeply, as if he hadn't tried that already, Jean Havoc closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life - and hopefully the last - he took a man's hard length into his mouth and sucked.

It wasn't quite as bad as he had envisioned. Awkwardness aside, it was interesting to feel something so intimately with his mouth, working his tongue over its throbbing shape in earnest. He could feel how taught the thin skin stretched over Breda's cock was, and wondered if his had felt this way to the women he'd been with. There was an urgency to it, like his shaft would explode if it wasn't relieved quickly enough. Thinking back to past encounters, he supposed it was a fair assessment.

He worked his mouth over Breda, running his tongue up and down his length, dipping its tip into the seeping slit at its head. The bitter saltiness was interesting, not entirely off-putting, but certainly a sharp contrast to the musky tang of his skin. He dragged his teeth over the head of his penis, quickly swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin. He had liked it when this one girl had done something similar, and figured Breda might appreciate the experiment in technique.

The truck rumbled on, making it a bit difficult to service such a delicate appendage as he was without injuring it. He grabbed Breda's thighs to steady himself, trying to ignore the distinctly masculine shape of his thick legs. He flicked his tongue over a protruding vein, thick and throbbing directly beneath the skin's surface. He could feel his counterpart's very life-beat in that vein, steady and strong and wanting for more.

Breda moved against his mouth, pushing and pulling himself in a slow rhythm that Havoc tried his best to match. It was both a strange dance and a challenging one, but he was always one to try his best. The truck hit another large bump, and Havoc gagged as Breda fell into him deeply. The way his throat closed up and tried to repel the intrusion was quite interesting; the almost burning sensation it wrought was one he decided he'd like to experience again.

Purposely this time, Jean took his length deep into his mouth, ignoring his body's requests otherwise. His palette convulsed in the back of his mouth, his throat straining to clear itself. It was a very interesting sensation, made even more so by the way Breda jerked and moaned as his mouth closed around him.

Jean could feel the other man's legs shaking from the strain of standing and the pleasure Jean was providing him. What a strange idea that was. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, whether he should be glad his friend was enjoying this so or be disturbed by it. If nothing else, Havoc sure had a deeper appreciation for the attention any woman had or would ever give to him.

Suddenly he could feel Breda's cock stiffen inside of him and then it convulsed, much like his throat had earlier, pumping itself dry. While he shouldn't have been surprised at the occurrence - he obviously knew how dicks worked - it still caught him off guard, like they weren't actually doing this for Breda to, well, for him to finish.

His mouth was quickly filled with hot semen, and unlike before he found himself giving in to the urge to gag. He pulled his head back and spat, not even pausing to see where he as aiming. The heat of Breda's fluids tingled inside of him, the acrid taste lingering despite its immediate ejection. Coughing, he wiped his mouth and looked to his left, where a sizable glob of combined fluids clung to a paperboard box with Mustang's neat handwriting on display by the top corner.

"Shit, we gotta clean that up," Breda stated, as if it wasn't obvious what needed to happen. Reaching into his pants pocket, Havoc withdrew a handkerchief and began wiping away the oozing gob. The paper was dark and damp where it had been coated. Havoc could only hope it would dry and look normal by the time they stopped.

He turned and shoved his hand through the seam of the roof canvas, dropping the soiled cloth outside and hoping that no one up front took notice. Breda had closed his pants and was settling back into his seat on the other side of the bed. He looked satisfied, relaxing into his spot with that dumb look guys all seemed to have after having been with a woman. It made Havoc's stomach curl, though he couldn't say it was a wholly terrible experience. He had gone what, five, ten minutes without once thinking of cigarettes? He wasn't quite as wired up either. It seemed Breda's theory wasn't totally off-base, not that he planned to have a redo at any point in his life.

"When we get to Central, you owe me a pack. No, make that two."

"Deal."


End file.
